


Look at the Light through the Windowpane

by SambliongPalpatine



Category: The Alienist (TV)
Genre: Love Character Death, M/M, Self-represed character, Sex (?), self-confidence issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-07-10 18:06:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15954692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SambliongPalpatine/pseuds/SambliongPalpatine
Summary: Just a sorting of feelings. And a coming together of hearts.





	Look at the Light through the Windowpane

**Author's Note:**

> Hellow! This is just me trying this ship. I love these guys, I hope I did them justice and that you enjoy!
> 
> Comments and kudos are welcome!

Laszlo is not sure the exact moment his feelings for John changed. He just woke up one day and felt it as if someone had slapped him on the face. He just ignored it though; feelings were a distraction in his line of work and besides he was sure John had his affections placed with Sara, even when clearly she was not interested whatsoever.

 

Everyday he looked at the mirror, at his useless arm in particular, he reenforced the idea that no one would ever feel for him even a speck of desire or, if you want to call it, love. He can live with that, most days.

 

Today is not one of those days. Today he much rather stay in bed than get up and continue to face the horrors of the world, but do so he must. Perhaps when the killer is caught he will give himself a day off work.

 

“Mary,” he calls for her to come help him get dressed. She is as efficient and silent as ever and Laszlo is somewhat thankful for that because, even-though Mary is as expressive and inquisitive as any, he couldn’t bare open questioning. Especially not today. “Mary,” he calls softly this time. She doesn’t pause what she is doing but Laszlo knows she is listening. “I just wanted to thank you for everything you do for me, for still be here despite the fact that I can be... a difficult person and I do not, for any reason, want you to feel as if your loyalty is taken for granted,” he finishes saying and when she lifts her head there is a smile there and her eyes are bright.

 

For a moment he wishes his affections could be hers. But not even Laszlo Krejzler can influence this matters.

 

  * He is to be going to Washington with John and something about it makes unease pool at the pit of his stomach. He sighs and takes a deep breath, he can do this, right? He will get himself back under control and reposition the mask he hidesbehind. 



 

He walks into the room where Cyrus is convalecing and closes the door behind himself. “How are you feeling, Cyrus?” he asks.

 

The man jumps a little, having not noticed him until then, but composes himself quickly and answers. “Better, thank you doctor,” the man answers, polite as ever.

 

Laszlo hesitates, for some reason before finally saying what he came to say. “It is better if you don’t know the details but I will be leaving with John for a few days,” he stops and looks at Cyrus for a moment. “Please, keep an eye on Mary and Stevie and lf there is any trouble, which I hope there is not, call Miss Howard.”

 

Cyrus nods and doesn’t questions, Laszlo gives back a nod and then exits the room.

^*^

 

He is sitting on the chair writing some notes while John paces the large of his room; he is not paying attention, so immersed in his mind he is that he does not notice that John has stopped pacing and is actually staring at him with a curious expression on his face.

 

“You did want to dance, didn’t you?”

 

Laszlo stops and leaves his pen atop the papers. “What?” he asks, not having caught what he just said.

 

“Before, at the ball when that woman asked you, you did want to,” the other elaborates.

 

Laszlo turns to look at him. “It does not matter what I wanted, I cannot dance,” he says simply, trying to downplay it.

 

But John is not fooled. He walks forward and offers a hand, raising an expectant eyebrow. “Well, do you want to?”

 

Laszlo is so struck and his brain is not working. “What?” he can only ask again.

 

John quirks a corner of his mouth. “Dance, Laszlo.”

 

Laszlo finds himself speechless wich doesn’t happen very often. “I- but there is no music...”

 

“That’s not important, we can imagine it. Now, come on,” John interrupts him.

 

Laszlo shakes his head incredulously. “John, my...” he trails off and instead looks down at his bad arm.

 

He hears John huff and then he is taking his left hand and pulling him up, Laszlo stumbles a little but John is there to catch him. “Trust me,” he says softly and the alienist can only nod.

 

John lets go of his hand for a moment in order to take the right one and carefully place it over his left arm; his forearm over John’s and hand weakly around the elbow.

 

“You see?” John asks teasing, a bit of a smile playing on his lips.

 

Laszlo nods and stares at him with wide eyes and lips parted somewhat. “But there is no music,” he cannot help himself, he repeats because he doesn’t know what else to say.

 

John shrugs and places his right hand on his back. “It doesn’t matter, we can imagine it,” then he starts moving around the room in precise coordination; John twirls him at the compas of some waltz only they can hear and after a few more moments he realizes he is smiling. “Thank you, John,” he whispers because they are so close there is no need to raising his voice.

 

John is smiling, too and it only broadness after that. “It is my pleasure, Laszlo.”

 

They are so close, he could lean forward just the slightless bit and he would be kissing John. He wants to but the part that is repressed and has always prevented him of doing things like this wins over and so he does not lean in. If John wanted to he could be leaning forward but he is doing nothing more than continue moving them around the room, that is until he stops and dips Laszlo down, as one would do if they were dancing with a woman, and places a barely-there kiss to his forehead before pulling him back up and letting him go.

 

“Well I- I will see you tomorrow,” he says, trying to get back his breathing.

 

John nods and gives a faint smile. “Goodnight then, Laszlo,” he says while walking towards the door.

•••

 

The first thing he notices after their fall is pain. A fleeting thought about John crosses his mind but the pain is intense enough to overwhelm it all.

“Are you alright, Laszlo?” with that he gets the answer to his unspoken question.

 

“John,” he pants out,“help me tie it.”

 

John nods and quickly rips a piece of cloth to tie it around his leg, hands a little shaky for what Laszlo can notice. “Sorry, sorry,” the man rushes out.

 

“John, if I don’t get away-“ he starts saying.

 

“If you want me to pass on a message, pass it on yourself. I don’t intend on any of us dying here so come on,” he slungs Laszlo’s left arm around his shoulder, wrapping his own around his waist.

 

“Is the pain better or worse?” John asks after some time of helping him walk around.

 

“Hard to tell, I think my mind has gotten used to it by now,” he explains.

 

“What did you want to tell me?” John asks while helping him sit down on a fallen tree trunk.

 

“Oh, it’s nothing,” he pants out. Truth is, his leg still hurt but he doesn’t want to worry John.

 

John lets out a grunt of disbelief. “Oh, I’m not a fool, Laszlo. I’ve been in love enough times to recognize that look.Dull, I think you called it,” he sits in front of him with a serious expression and when he asks if the presumed ‘she’ knows how he feels, he doesn’t correct him.

 

“Not the extent of it,” he replies, still panting.

 

“Is it reciprocated?” his friend asks.

 

He doesn’t know and most likely he never will but John doesn’t have to know that. “I don’t think so,” he settles for answering.

 

John huffs. “I’m sure that if you talked to her you would discover you are wrong,” he says with a small smile.

 

Laszlo looks at him with a loss as to what to say next and completely without his permission, his self-depreciation took the wheel of his brain. “Why would she, better yet, why would anyone have feelings for me? How could they, I am not exactly easy to be around nor am I attractive,” he hates himself a little more after realizing what had just come out of his mouth.

 

John stares at him with an emotion Laszlo doesn’t care to name but after a moment it’s gone and John shakes his head and looks away. “Don’t talk like that, I’m not going to say you are not difficult but once people get to know you they realize who you truly are,” he pauses and when he turns his stare to him again his eyes are intense. “That is why we stay, despite your harsh words and arrogance.”

 

John has a small smile after he says that, he has known Laszlo sincecollege after all, and he has stayed with him despite those faults.That must mean something.

 

They stare at each other intently until something inside Laszlo gets free and he is about to admit tosomething he is sure he will regret. “John-“ but destiny, apparently has other plans because thesound of hooves interrupts him.

 

“Do you hear that?” John asks, looking around to see where the sound comes from. “Come on,” he says, having stood up and offers a hand that Laszlo accepts, feeling relieved for the distraction.

 

They find the calash horses not that far away.

“I can’t ride a horse, John,” he admits, looking down at his feet.

 

John places a hand on his shoulder. “You don’t have to ride it,’I’ll ride it. You just have to sit there and enjoy,” he grins a little and then moves away towards the unaware animals and with a lot of care and precaution, he grabs the rains of one of them and ‘ohs’ in the hopes of calming the neighing animal. Laszlo just stands there and smiles fondly, he is still not sure why John is still his friend but he is glad he still is, even if he doesn’t show it much, or at all.

 

John walks back with the horse and motions for him to walk closer. “Come, I will help you get up,” he says.

 

Laszlo is hesitant; he is crippled for two, now and he is not sure how good of an idea it is to ride with his wounded leg,but he understands it would be quicker. So he limps forward and lets John help him up.

 

Then the other man climbs behind him and circles his waist with his arms in order to grab the reins and kick the horse into motion. Laszlo has to suppress a groan after sharp pain shots through his leg. 

 

“Laszlo, how is the pain?” John asks, concern coating his tone meaning that maybe Laszlo couldn’t completely disguise his pain.

 

“There is none, as I told you before,my mind has gotten used to it,” he lies, turning his head to look at John so it is more believable. He involuntarily rests his head against John’s shoulder and grants himself this moment of closeness for the rest of the ride.

•••

 

He is lying on his bed, leaning against the pillows when the door opens and in comes John.

 

He walks towards the bed; his step slow as if uncertain as if he should get closer or not. He is looking down at the floor and his hands are fidgeting with the brim of his hat. 

 

“John?” he prompts his friend to talk.

 

John sits down on the edge of the bed and leaves the hat on the nightstand. He still doesn’t look up at him. “Laszlo, ugh,” he cuts himself off and clears his throat.

 

“What is it? Are you unwell?” he asks, reaching out as if to grab his hand but he decides not to.

 

John gives a short shake of the head and after taking a deep breath he finally looks up at him. “Laszlo, I’m afraid I have bad news. Sara called- there has been an accident- she doesn’t think it was an accident- at your house and-“ he trails off again, now he is starting to feel uneasy and just wants John to get on with it. He takes Laszlo’s hands in his and finally says what he has been dreading saying. “Mary is dead.”

^^

 

Something in Laszlo’s heart has broken permanently. He is watching as Mary’s coffin is lowered into the grave and he feels like crying again but he restrains himself because he is in public.

 

A warm hand touches his shoulder gently and he knows exactly who it belongs to. “I’ll repeat the words you told me long time ago, you are not alone in this, Laszlo.” John whispers and Laszlo feels something tighten and losen inside him.

 

“We should probably go back to our investigation-“ the man is saying and Laszlo shakes his head violently.

 

“No, there will be no more investigation. Getting involved in this case was a mistake from the start.”

 

John is looking at him aghast. “But Laszlo, we can’t stop now, not when we are so close-“

 

Laszlo cuts him off. “When then? When I get you killed? Look what this investigation did already! I will not risk anyone else,” and he says it with such finality that John only stares at him with his mouth open while he leans down to throw dirt- as one do- into Mary’s grave and then walks away.

•••

 

He is in pain and despite studying the mind he finds himself helpless as to what to do or how to help himself. It hurts so much and he is so used to close off his emotions that it surprises him how much pain one can feel.

 

He has closed himself to the exterior world, he knows John has rung his bell a few times but he does not want to see him, or for John to see him like this.

 

He loved Mary, and now he regrets not showing it enough or even say it at least once. She was an mextraordinary woman; kind, warm, courageous, humble. And she was so young, with a life ahead of her and now she is gone and will not be coming back and he feels responsible.

 

To make matters worse, the regressions to his childhood, to what happen to his arm... doesn’t help. He needs to talk with someone, someone who mighr relate, that can understand. Perhaps that is why he accepts to talk with Sara; she has her own past, her own pain and in some way, she understands.

 

“May I ask you something, doctor Kreizler?” Sara is still standing beside him and is looking at him with a soft expression; nearly maternal, despite her young age.

 

  * He nods with an amused smile that instantly fades when she utters her question. 



“Why haven’t you done something about your feelings?”

 

He looks at her with what he hopes is a blank expression. “To what feelings you may be referring to, Miss Howard?”

 

She quirks an eyebrow and gives him a knowing look. “The ones you have for a mutual acquaintance, of course,” she explains.

 

He turns his head and clenches his fist in order to hold back the rash comment he knows is coming. “Society would never approve,” he simply states.

 

“Society shouldn’t influence with who we fall in love with. And mostly, society doesn’t need to know,” she gives him a conspiratorial smile. “Anyway, we would like it if you rejoined us in our investigation, doctor Kreizler,” she touches his arm before she leaves.

^^

 

And so it happens again, just as with Jesse, he will never know what compelled a man to do evil- or as Sara so optimistically put it- to do good. And maybe that is alright, maybe there will come a time for answers and now he should focus in other matters; like helping the children at the Institute and his other patients, from which he may yet learn much more.

 

A sense of freedom, of well-being and almost, maybe, happiness, has settled in and Laszlo finds himself enjoying the company of those who had formed part of the fruitful partnership, that has evolved into friendship.He cares about them and that is why- despite himself- he gives the ring to John. Sara is wonderful and she and John make a great team so they can also make a great couple.

 

He is no easy person to be around, he knows and that is why he values those who stay despite that fact. Still, he resigned himself to be alone a long time ago because, well there is no need to state the obvious.

 

One day he figures that if he wants to be completely free of his past he should go see his father. It was a hard choice to make and it was even harder to see it through but when he walks away from the man that, as he had thought for a long time, had nearly ruined his life he feels free in a way and finds it easier to smile and breathe.

•••

 

He goes to Mary’s grave one sunny day and brings flowers with him.

 

“Hello Mary,” he greets in that soft voice he always used with her. “I- I was unsure of what flowers to bring, I had never bought flowers before but I saw these ones, so pretty and delicate but with a strange sense of strength and I thought you might like them,” his voice breaks at the last word and he has to clear his throat a couple of times to get it straight again. “I hope you can forgive me for not taking care of you as I should have. I have not found another like you and I doubt I ever will. Forgive me for not knowing how to show you my affection, Mary.”

 

He stares at the grave, at the flowers leaning against the tomb stone and a tear rolls down his cheek which he wipes angrily away.

 

“Es tut mir leid,” he lapses into German now, it’s easier to express his feelings if no one can understand. “Ich vermisse dich.”

 

And then turns around and walks away. Somehow, it feels like another goodbye, as if a burden has been lifted of off his shoulders.

•••

 

“...zlo?” he is vaguely aware of someone calling his name. He had put on some opera and sat back on the armchair to relax, he never planned on falling asleep but his arm was hurting and he just wanted to sleep.

 

He opens his eyes and sees a blurry figure standing there, is too tall and broad to be Sara or Stivie and sounds young so it could not be Cyrus, therefore.., “John?” he asks groggy with sleep.

 

The other man chuckles in amusement. “Who else would come to see you this late?”

 

He tries to hide a wince as he straightens up on the armchair but John, as the artist he is, has an eye for detail and catches on with it. He furrows his brows.

 

“Are you alright?” he asks in concern as he takes a step closer.

 

Laszlo surprises himself by admitting to the truth. “My arm hurts,” he says simply.

 

John stares at him with a mixture of emotions; surprise at hearing him admit to pain, concern for the same reason and another one that Laszlo does not dare name. “Do you need anything? Can I do anything?” the man rushes his questions.

 

Laszlo ponders this for a moment and knows he will regret this later but he needs the help, it is so hard to admit but it is better than sleeping like this.

 

He nods. “Can you- can you help me get changed?” he is proud to say that he looked John directly in the eyes when he asked.

 

The other man agrees without faltering and stands close in case he also needs help standing up.But thankfully he manages that task on his own.

 

John follows him silently upstairs and into his room and this makes Laszlo somewhat nervous, no one-except Mary and now the new maid- come in here. So it is strange to have someone else inside his private room, inside his privacy.

 

After the silence has stretched for too long, John shifts on his feet and pulls something out of his pocket. “I believe I should return you the ring you gave me,” he says while fidgeting with the small box.

 

Laszlo stops mid-step towards the dresser where he keeps his nightclothes. “Why?” he does not turn to look at his friend, though.

 

He hears John sigh and he can picture him shrugging. “I was going to ask Sara,” as he had expected, “but before I could get one word out she told meI should be with someone I truly love and that feels the same for me.”

 

“I thought you were in love with Sara,” is all he can say as a reply. He is still facing away so he does not notice when John comes closer.

 

  * “What should I help you with?” John changes subject and Laszlo jumps a little at having him so close. 



“My boots first, please,” he points at them as if necessary.

 

John leans down and starts unbuttoning the ungodly things, Laszlo knows his particular taste in fashion does not suit his... limitations but he still likes it. When John pulls the second boot off, he stands back up and waits for another request.

 

Laszlo wishes he did not have to ask it- to John of all people!- but tonight he cannot manage on his own. “Can you help me with my shirt?”

 

His friend must notice how much it costs him to ask so he says nothing as he undoes the buttons of his waistcoat and shirt; he had disposed of the tie a while ago. John however, having finish the unbuttoning, leaves the garments on and turns to give him privacy to discard the clothes and put on his nightshirt. 

 

When he is done he sits at the foot of the bed and sighs. He does not know why he says what he does next, maybe is a mixture of the aching of his arm and exhaustion, whatever it is now is unimportant. “I think you deserve to know what happened to my arm.”

 

Laszlo hears John’s intake of breath and feels the bed dip to his left.“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” his friend says.

 

Laszlo snorts. “Do you think I would be telling you if I didn’t want to?” he quirks an eyebrow at him.

 

John huffs. “No, of course. You never do anything you don’t want to do.”

 

Silence falls over them, neither really knowing what to say. But Laszlo figured that if he told Sara about his arm and he had only met her four months ago, he should tell John, his oldest friend.

 

“My father, he had two sides; one was loving and caring and the other was brutal.One day I-“ he has to make a pause and take a deep breath. “I said or did the wrong thing. I am not really sure how it happened but he had my arm behind my back, I heard and felt my bones cracking,” he has to pause and breathe, he does not want to cry but talking about it makes the pain come back and his arm still hurts.“In small children fractures can seriously damage the growing process of the bones-“ he realizes with such horror that there are tears running down his face. Dreadfully he knows it is too late to try and cover it.

 

“Laszlo,” a warm hand closes around his own and squeezes gently. “For all you have studied and read, all the patients you help and yet you still try to repress yourself and your feelings. I will not judge you or think less of you for crying,” he has his gaze set on a spot on the floorboard and he can still picture John’s reassuring smile.

 

He gives no reply, the last time he showed any emotion in front of someone was when he was a child. And now here he is; crying in front of a man who has been his friend despite himself, who he has known since college and yet had never seen him like this.

 

“Come,” warm calloused hands close around his and gives him a slight pull. “Lets put you to bed,” his friend says gently. “And before you even dare say it, I am staying with you.”

 

Laszlo lets out a noise that is half a huff and half a snort because of course John would say a thing like that. “I must say it is not necessary for you to-“

 

The man cuts him off. “Yes, it is. I know you and I know you won’t admit to it but I know you need it,” he says and maybe he does know Laszlo better than the alienist thought he did.

 

John lifts the covers in order for him to get in and then follows himself and, unexpectedly-not unwelcome- slides an arm around his waist.

 

John must have felt Laszlo was about to protest because he says in a firm voice. “Sleep, Laszlo.”

 

And his eyes close involuntarily and he snuggles deeper into the pillow allowing himself to relax.

 

“Laszlo, come here.”

 

He must have been 6 or 7 the day his father arrived home stumbling drunk just in time to hear him miss a note of the Chopin’s piece he was supposed to learn.

 

“Laszlo, komm her,” his father said firmly. It was scary how sober he sounded when blind drunk and good things never came out of it.

 

Though he was wrong, he found. The steadiness of his father’s hold when he twisted his arm behind his back was not that of a drunken man.

 

“I have told you that you cannot miss notes. And yet whet do you do?” the strength augmented and he felt pain cursing through his arm. “If you are not doing it right better to not at all!”

 

Pain intensified and he heard cracking, bones probably. And then more pain...

 

“Ni...”

 

“...cht!”

 

“...szlo!”

 

He wakes up with a start, he is nearly hyperventilating, he is shaking and there are tears streaming down his cheeks.

 

“Laszlo,” a soft, familiar deep voice whispers near his ear, there is a warm hand carding gently through his hair.

 

“John?” he ventures; his voice cracks and he would be mortified had this been some other time or someone else with him in bed.

 

“Yes, it’s me,” he answers in a low tone. “You had a nightmare.”

 

Laszlo shuts his eyes tight and takes deep breaths until he feels his heart rate slow down.

 

“Yes,” he says no more. He knows John is going to ask anyway but he rather wait.

 

“About what, if I may ask?”

 

The room is dark but he can feel John looming above him so he looks up at where he believes his friend’s face is. “My arm.”

 

“Oh,” is John’s turn to be speechless. 

 

He rolls into a fetal position with his arm carded protectively against his chest.

 

  * John places his hand lightly, not wanting to put any pressure on Laszlo’s lame arm. “Talk to me, Laszlo that’s why I’m here for. I’m your friend,” he says, hand gently going up and down over his arm. 
  * He stays in that same position as he speaks again. “I could never play the piano again. I dreamt as a child of becoming a great pianist one day. But after that and as I grew up I realized that human mind was something intriguing; why we behave as we do, our appetites, our habits and also I wanted to understand my father so I chose to become an alienist,” he pauses for a moment, not sure if he wants to continue down this road or not. 



 

John chuckles and moves his hand lower on Laszlo’s arm until he can take his hand. “Well, it has certainly worked out for you. You have helped a lot of people and children, too,” he pauses and Laszlo can feel his uncertainty. “If anything, you have forgotten your own humanity and you try to seem as if you didn’t care even though you do. People care about you, Laszlo. I care about you,” he murmurs.

 

Laszlo feels his heart beat faster and a shiver runs down his spine. “After what happened... no one dared touch my arm. My mother stopped hugging me and nobody ever wanted to... once they saw my arm, Theodor has described it as a broken wing, I believe,” he feels John squeeze his hand, “and people find it repulsive so I have never... it is easier to close off than to bear the look of disgust on people’s faces,” he says it so under his breath that he is not sure John heard until he feels press of lips against the back of his neck, his breath catches.“John...”

 

“Sh, Laszlo. You are wrong,” he moves away and moves Laszlo carefully to lie on his back. “If you look closer, you will find that there is no disgust.”

 

He stares up at John, eyes gleaming in the darkness, he feels his stomach twist. “Do not say things you do not mean, John.” He is past the point of feeling shame at the brokenness of his voice. “Please.”

 

A warm gust of air on his face signals John’s huff. “If you knew me as well as you think you do Laszlo, you would find that I do mean it,” and then he presseshis lips against Laszlo’s and it is everything he ever thought it would be; soft, gentle, true.

 

This was it: he could either embrace it and accept he has always wanted John like this and that he is finally getting it or he could go on pretending, say no and continue as friends. But he feels free now and he has indeed wanted this for a long time. So he clumsily kisses John back.

 

He feels nerves coiling inside of him; his experience in this matter is limited, he knows his own body: what he likes, how he likes it, his desires but no more than that.

 

John’s tongue traces the rim of his lower lip and his mouth opens instantly. It is everything he thought it would be, he wraps his left arm around John’s neck and parts his legs in order to let the other man find a more comfortable position. “John,” he mutters against his lips.

 

John hums and sits back up, unbuttoning his shirt.

 

“I would like to be able to do that,” Laszlo realizes he had said it out-loud when he stops and looks up at him.

 

He thinks John will change his mind and go back to sleep when the other man pulls his hand away. “Alright then, do the rest.” John has undone half so there aren’t many left.

 

Laszlo feels he takes longer than needed with the task but John is not hurrying him or pushing him away so Laszlo finishes with the shirt and watches as John pushes it off.

 

Laszlo stares at him, at his naked chest and feels self_conscious. He is not sure John will like what he sees so that is why he stops him before he can undo a button. “I’m afraid I’m not much of a sight to see,” he murmurs.

 

John huffs and lifts his head with a finger under his chin. “Laszlo, soon you may find that is not what I think at all,” he kisses Laszlo chastely before resuming opening his nightshirt.He takes it off minding Laszlo’s arm and when he has discarded the garment he pauses and stares at him critically.

 

“Huh, and here you were saying how you aren’t a sight to see,” he comments. 

 

Laszlo wraps his left arm around himself, he is not used to such scrutiny. “John,” he whispers.

 

“What? Am I not allowed to admire you?” John asks, an eyebrow quirked.

 

“What is there to admire?” he says with a bitter chuckle.

 

“Many things, you would be surprised,” the man murmurs while placing his lips on Laszlo’s neck. “There is beauty in all things, if you know where to watch.”

 

John trails his nose up Laszlo’s neck, every time he lets out a breath it makes Laszlo’s skin tickle. Laszlo feels himself shiver with anticipation, he curls his left hand around John’s neck and squirms.

 

With a slow bodily move, John makes Laszlo lay back down. The new position brings their bodies into full contact and Laszlo can feel what John was talking about earlier.

 

“Do you believe me now,” he asks with his mouth against his collarbone, “how much I desire you?”

 

Laszlo’s breath comes harsher, he feels the evidence of John’s desire pressing against his thigh, his own desire presses against John’s hip.He nods and tightens his hold on the other’s hair.

 

John chuckles and lifts his head to look down at him. “I told you, didn’t I?”

 

Laszlo stares up at him and moves his hand to touch his face gently. “I want you, John. “

 

John’s blue eyes stare intently at him and Laszlo feels as if he could penetrate deep into his very soul and he feels exposed. He squirms, nervous but also excited.

 

“I’ll show you how good it feels,” his new lover says, his raspy voice sounds even raspier making Laszlo shiver.

 

“John..” he whispers helplessly, his hand caressing the man’s cheek.

 

John leans in and kisses him quick before pulling away and starting to kiss down his neck. It’s so good, the feel of John’s lips on his skin, soft and gentle and Laszlo moans softly not being able to help himself.

 

John worships his body as no one before ever has and if Laszlo were a different person he would cry because of how loved this makes him feel.

 

This is what making love feels like. This is what Laszlo used to think he would never have. He never thought it possible to be with John like this, his heart beats faster with every touch and he feels he will explode.

 

John makes love to him slowly, careful of his lame arm, careful not to hurt him.They kiss the whole time, their lips swollen and red but they still kiss: passionately, roughly, with teeth and tongue and bitting and breathing each other’s breaths. Laszlo wants to weep.

 

“Shh, shh, it’s alright,” his best friend turned lover comforts him; kissing his cheeks and his eyelids. “Laszlo, I..”

 

“I love you, John,” he blurts out. If all his faculties were intact right now he would probably have restrained himself. But they are in bed together after all and Laszlo has denied himself for so long that he cannot, does not, regret or feel ashamed for having finally confessed his affections. 

 

John pauses his thrusts and Laszlo’s heart sinks at the thought that maybe he said too much. He closes his eyes and turns his head, cursing in german at his own stupidity.

 

Soft lips press against his cheek and warm breath ghosts against his skin. “Laszlo,” John whispers, “look at me, please,” he pleads softly. Laszlo doesn’t want to comply but the hand on the other side of his face makes him turn back to look at him. He keeps his eyes closed in retaliation.

 

“I love you, too.” John murmurs, against his lips.

 

Laszlo’s breath catches in his throat at that. He presses their lips more firmly and John continues thrusting until they both find release. John collapses against Laszlo while his breathing calms down, the alienist wraps his arms clumsily around his back- his right one only reaches his hip- and shivers in embarrassment probably. John rolls off him to lie on his side.

 

They stay in silence for a moment, John takes Laszlo’s hand and caresses the knuckles and smiles.

 

“John,” he whispers, not really sure of his words. “What will happen now? I mean,” he clears his throat. “With us.”’

 

John takes in a breath and then kisses the back of his hand. “We have this, of course,” and then leans in and kisses him chastely. 

 

“This wil be difficult,” he says, seriously.

 

John shakes his head. “I have been your friend long enough to know-“

 

Laszlo cuts him off. “No John, I am not talking about that. I mean, society...”

 

“Doesn’t have to meddle in our private lifes, Laszlo. I’ve wanted this for years, I won’t let this interfere.”

 

Laszlo hums and moves over to rest on John’s shoulder and exhales deeply. The other man wraps his arms around him carefully and kisses his hair.“As long as we have each other, as long as we love each other and are willing to fight for this, the rest will figure itself out,” he earnestly says.

 

Laszlo smiles and presses a small kiss against John’s collarbone. “Ich liebe dich.”

 

He feels the intake of breath and then another kiss is pressed to his temple. “I love it when you speak in German.”

 

He chuckles and closes his eyes. “Güten Nacht, John,” he bids goodnight to his lover as he makes a mental note to speak more in German to John.

 

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